The beeping of the machines I was linked to only increased my state of panic, as a nurse put an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose. It was hard for me to breathe at that point, as I didn't understand what was happening to me. I tried my best to iden...
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May, 21st, 1993
Dear Diary,
There's so much going on, I feel like I'd loose my mind if I didn't write anything down. In a sense, it helps me see things differently—it helps me see the bigger picture. Our main concern over the last few days has been to make sure everything was ready before we announced Faraji's adoption to the world. We were relieved when his school accepted to sign a non-disclosure agreement about his being enrolled there. We didn't want the press or the paparazzi to find out, or every effort we provided to keep his identity a secret would have been useless. We received countless cards from various people to congratulate us on becoming parents, along with gifts for our sons. Faraji was over the moon when he saw the amount of gifts he had yet to unwrap. And he deserves them. He's such a good and clever boy. He understands how important it is for him to wear a mask in specific situations, and he plays along with it without arguing. We couldn't be prouder of him. Michael's been waiting on a answer from my part about me becoming a co-CEO of the Heal The World Foundation. If I wasn't due to give Doctors Without Borders an answer tomorrow, I would wait before I give him an answer. This is a huge responsibility. What if I messed up? What if I didn't manage to do things the way he intended? I wouldn't be able to deal with the guilt if I fucked things up.
Michael arranged a meeting with his team for me today, so I'll know I'll get a better idea of what the extents of my work for the foundation would be, and in a way, what my husband expects from me. The truth is, Diary, I haven't had a proper night of sleep in days. Between all of this and the whole John mess; my family's concern about the visions and the impact they have on me; the tour that's supposed to kick off in three months and all the arrangements coming with it... I'm a nervous wreck, and I'm exhausted. But I hold on to the future, ironically enough.
I know there will be better days because I saw what they'd look like. I looked up from my journal when I felt the mattress move under me. I looked on my right, and my husband was slightly stirring. He opened his eyes once, but the soft light that was invading the room through the blinds was too much for his irises. He closed them again, and blindly snuggled against me, putting his right arm around me as his head rested on my lap.
I put my journal back on the nightstand on my left, and gently rubbed my husband's bare back in a soothing manner. I didn't want to speak, because I didn't know if Michael was fully awake or not.
He needed his rest. Things had been up in the air for the last few weeks, and the second leg of the tour was just around the corner. He had a lot on his plate. If I weren't able to get a decent night of sleep, I made sure my husband would.
"What time is it?" My husband asked, his voice muffled by the sheets against his face.
"8:40AM, I just sent Faraji off to school," I let him know, as I kept drawing random patterns on his back with my fingers. "You can go back to sleep, honey."
"I had a dream," he said, tightening his hold over me. He visibly didn't want to go back to sleep. "We were back in Barbados, and you taught me how to surf. I was shirtless under the sun, and it was fine. Everything was perfect."
"I would have loved to teach you how to surf," I smiled at the memories from our honeymoon. "I'm sure you'd look hot on a surfing board."
He chuckled, finally removing his head from my lap to look at me. "And I know you're hot on one. Scratch that, you're always hot," he corrected himself, biting down on his bottom lip as he stared me up and down with his still sleepy eyes.
"Of course you'd say something like that," I chuckled, bringing my hand to his face to remove a rebellious curl that hid his beautiful features. "How'd you sleep, Maestro?"
"Well, thanks to that image of you in a very low-cut white bikini... I'd say pretty good," he smirked, before he place a trail of kisses from my hand to my shoulder. I smiled at my husband, shaking my head from side to side at his silly self. "How about you, my love?"
